


Another Nightly Encounter

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Sex, Ball Sucking, Blood, Creepy Fluff, Ghost Sex, Haunting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Murder Mystery, Unfortunate Implications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 02:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17051759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Saihara Shuichi has graduated from Hope's Peak and is attending an affiliated college. Unfortunately, his apartment has a ghost problem and the thing refuses to leave. Being a detective, despite his protests, Shuichi decides to investigate. At least to try and appease his housemate. Bloody showers are extremely unpleasant...Progress is slow.It might be going better than he thinks though.





	Another Nightly Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> My friend wanted this to be called sexual necromancy. 
> 
> There's some minor implied violence near the start but it never shows up afterwards. Will tag if deemed needed. 
> 
> Ouma is a strange creature here... Also foreshadowing lol.

It's five minutes after finally closing his eyes that Shuichi learns that tonight is not one for sleep. Lately, it never is. The man fully regrets moving into this apartment. To think that moving out, twenty and seeking further education despite Hope's Peak, would result in this. Unable to move a single inch as the temperature plummets. Shuichi keeps his eyes clenched tightly. He hears his lamp switch on and knows that the light is too faint for normal. 

A moment passes before lukewarm bath water and burning hot blood start dripping down onto him. Face, neck, slipping right past his blankets and pajamas.

Of course, he knows just what it is because he's seen it before. The thing that lurks in his apartment. Calling it home for years longer than Shuichi has been alive. The Ultimate Detective sees it in his bathtub- a boy looking bored while submerged in blood tainted water. He feels it then too, because he looks and sees that black-plum hair only when the pipes stutter. When they burst out thicker and lazier liquid that stains Shuichi red.

"I'm trying," the man grits to the invisible weight on his chest. Slowly getting heavier and heavier. More human instead of formless gravity. "You know I'm trying to help you! So why are you pushing me more?"

He says it like clockwork, always renewing his promise, but this time he's far too frustrated to do that. Progress is slower than Shuichi himself can accept. He can't imagine what it must be like to be the actual victim. It's hard enough to stand the echoing whispers. All the scratches at the walls and the begging, water splashing desperately and slippery footsteps heralding a fatal fall- begging and choking-

Shuichi’s eyes snap open as terrified purple eyes invade his mind's eye, own heart pounding in indignation at the implications, "That person wasn't me! Stop showing me things from that perspective!"

The ghost on top of him tilts his head and leans in closer.

Horrified, Shuichi wonders if the lost look on the half translucent thing's face is because he can't understand. The more he tries to figure out the ghost, the more obvious certain things become. Shuichi investigates previous tenants too. His apartment's ghost has gotten worse by all possible considerations.

Lowering ability to communicate as time goes on. Possible side effect of being dead and unable to pass on. Death being a violent murder not helpful. 

A damp finger trails against Shuichi’s cheek. It travels down to his jawline with one fingernail scraping. 

"Are... Are you upset with me? I know it must have been decades ago. You've been waiting for a long time," the Detective tries to apologize, knowing that the ghost doesn't like outright sorrys. He remembers the last time the spector was angry with him. 

One pale scar running down his hand, that's the only reminder that Shuichi needs. 

Turning back and trying to ignore the sound of water clogging his ears, he frowns.

Purple drowning under a sea of inky black. Just the same as always. Black hair writhing as if underwater, contrasting with skin in a way that Shuichi might like- if only the poor boy were alive and not a lifeless remnant. Not a hint of color fills the ghost's complexion. It just brings out how young he is, at least around Shuichi’s age. No one younger has lived in this particular apartment. 

"Broke into the records recently. One name was practically scrubbed clean. W-was that you? The area was bad then an- ah?"

Lips part into a parody of a smile. It reveals a black and ominous black, the ghost's mouth hiding nothing like teeth nor tongue. Merely a flat void bare of features behind sallow skin.

Shuichi swallows down discomfort as the weight gets heavier. His housemate looms over him with all the consideration of a spider hiding in someone's shoe. The bed is well and truly freezing now, even the air is cold enough to betray Shuichi’s breath, but the Detective smiles back. He refuses to be cowed by this tragic young man with half sanity. All the drips and drops in the world will be unable to-

Soft lips press against Shuichi’s temple, fleshy ice, and the man opens his mouth to squeak.

A strong metallic aftertaste attacks Shuichi’s mouth. It invades his nose as well- so strong that his eyes blink to avoid tears. A sense of yearning drifts in through the chaste kiss. Those lips leave him with a warble coming out from a water clogged throat. Clammy fingers grip down on his blankets.

Confusion fills the Detective. His eyes take in something that might be shy or might be sadistic. Just a single component to the ghost's expression. That mouth parted slightly with corners twitching up and down. Eyes wide and sinking. Shuichi finds that he hasn't a single clue on what to say. An earnestly nervous look has left him stumped.

Then his brain pieces together what might be the cause of this. The only difference, the only thing that Shuichi actually tries to hide, is that he masturbated earlier. He's been unable to do it for months now. At least in his own privacy. So when a cycle cements itself as the ghost not being around at noon…

"You little perverted- horrible creep!" Shuichi hisses, blushing at the realization that this visit was never about impatience. "You don't even have a body now!"

He instantly regrets saying it.

Lurching back and away, the ghost distorts into that more human visage for a handful of seconds. It's far more than enough for Shuichi to see hints of peach bring life to that face. Eyes shining with wetness and staring with keen pupils, the glassy glaze of death absent. Filled with hurt and a special kind of anguish. As if Shuichi has slapped the ghost with a reminder- and he has. 

Life drains out of the young man like blood into water. Yet the twisting of once vivid lips doesn't fade. Faint sounds trickle, growing, fingernails against walls and hoarse sobs.

"Didn't mean it that way," the Detective whispers. He slowly removes his arms from under the covers, reaching out to grab at half there skin, insanely conscious of the fact that the ghost is naked. He's always been aware of the fact. Just hasn't really actually thought about it. 

Sometimes corpses are naked, because people are naked, and that's why the ghost is nude. No bigger reason than the fact that he died that way. 

Gold eyes try and fail to ignore how hopefully the boy looks, ink eyes dripping while they stare at the hand touching one barely solid arm. A single observation forces its way into the Detective's throat. Shuichi swallows again, mouth dry, "You've been lonely."

The ghost's expression slowly grows lax. Shuichi’s hand is almost burning from how frigid the room is, not to mention the ghost himself. His skin is sticky and tacky, like invisible blood, and the Detective has to constantly adjust his grip. It feels like he's holding something moldable. Like the ghost will crumple or pop at any moment. Too much pressure and that barely solid body will give way.

"Uuuu-" white lips get licked, frustration pulling at eyebrows as their ghastly owner slowly leans back down. Further yet bypassing Shuichi’s mouth in favor of his neck.

It's quite easy to admit that Shuichi is still confused. He has little idea as to why this is happening now. There's been ample time for this ghost to make advances before. Yet, nothing until Shuichi jerked off. That too isn't new. Shuichi only stopped after fully realizing the extent of the haunting.

Unless... Unless the ghost actually likes him. If the ghost didn't before, but does now, then it could make sense. 

Ha, well that's just impossible. 

There's no way that the spirit haunting Shuichi’s apartment is in love with him.

A soft whine bubbles into Shuichi's neck. Black-plum hair trickles his skin over and over, and a not quite real body ceases straddling. The ghost stops looming in favor of laying his disproportionate weight onto Shuichi in full. The Ultimate Detective scrambles to explain this strange behavior. Between the simple pranks of spilt milk in smiley faces and the blood dripping upwards from the floor, there is no reasonable conclusion. Nights like these are usually full of shaking and guttural throat noises. 

Clicking and breathless urgency pairing up with cold knives in the form of fingers.

Not ice wet skin caressing collarbones.

Not the ghost nuzzling his damp head into the crook of Shuichi's neck. No lips brushing softly against skin.

"So! Tonight is, something, and about the records too. You see I had to get the landlords to invite me in, and then ah... You aren't even listening," Shuichi ends with a sigh. He frowns after realizing that his arms have wrapped around the ghost without warning.

He tries to move one hand and finds it resting on the ghost's head. A strange kind of intimacy is rising, and Shuichi murmurs, "Are you Ouma K?"

The ghost's head shoots up to look at him with wild eyes, his entire body buzzing with energy, and the boy moves to kiss Shuichi a second time. It's not a different kind of feeling. Lips on his with freezing cold softness. Except that Shuichi doesn't react badly this time. He holds tighter onto sticky skin. Blinks at the stronger enthusiasm, and shivers as all the warmth is leached from him. 

Shuichi’s mouth tingles as they part. His heart rate is erratic for a reason entirely different from before. 

"Ouma-san... " 

There's something hard poking against the Detective's body.

It's definitely nothing other than Ouma’s erection. Shuichi can only thank God that he knows for a fact that this ghost is the same age as him now. But now that he thinks about it... He's having sexual contact with a dead person. Gold eyes glance around the room as Shuichi’s mind goes to war. This can potentially count as a crime. He's the detective working to solve Ouma’s almost thirty years old murder, which was never reported or covered up, and that could constitute as a severely unethical power imbalance. 

Is this immoral? Is this against any solid code of ethics? Is having sexual contact with a spirit illegal?

A curious finger rubs at Shuichi’s lips. He blinks again and stares into absurdly fond eyes, purple and skittering black. Hot blood dribbles onto his face again- paired with bathwater.

"Do you just want comfort? Or do you actually want to do that sort of thing?" Shuichi wonders out loud, hands wandering to the swell of Ouma’s ass. The pipes rattle against the walls. A chill breeze disturbs nearby curtains too. 

Icy and slick, Ouma licks off his mess with a distinctively mischievous aura.

If Shuichi had doubt before, he certainly doesn't have any now. There's only so much obvious signaling that one man can take. Even if he's not sure how he feels about any of it. Half the time he isn't even sure if Ouma is real. In any case, the Detective smiles up at the ghost laying on him. 

Eerie noises drift about the room alongside indistinct conversation. Water drips down onto tiles. Ouma’s body shudders with obvious glee, void mouth opening into a wobbly grin. The revenant clicks and chatters like something happy but inhuman. Faint whispers build up and dye within Shuichi’s ears as he watches. That bloodless body goes back to straddling him after an energetic bounce. 

Shivering from the freezing rain sensations prickling at him, Shuichi’s eyelids start to feel heavy.

Within the next few moments, Shuichi realizes that neither of them know what to do. Most likely because of the blanket covering Shuichi’s body. The man considers it for a minute and decides that the blanket isn't even working. It's still horrifically cold. Ouma is a supernatural entity, not just a human, and his frigid temperature isn't normal. The blanket gets tossed to the side. 

Shuichi watches the fabric drift through Ouma with fascination. 

Honestly, the Detective has tried to ignore the more visual hauntings. Less investigation and more looking away. Particularly annoying corner of eye hallucinations aside.

Hair floats languidly as Ouma tilts his head again. Unblinking eyes stare into Shuichi with anticipation shining. It should be the opposite of alluring, yet the detective finds himself caught up in actually looking. Using his eyes to see more than evidence and clues.

Ouma is- Ouma is almost cute beneath the horror. If he had blood pumping in actual veins, his eyes clear of death black corruption, then the young man would surely be flustered. Shuichi recalls the glimpse from earlier and matches it up with similar. Definitely attractive. Colorful. Yeah... 

"I've been looking at your dick for months, and now I'm only just realizing that," the Detective quickly shuts up at the sight of Ouma's chest heaving with silent laughter. 

A picture frame falls off of Shuichi’s wall and he isn't even mad.

Getting up and crawling forward, the man shuts up his inadvertent poltergeist with a kiss. This time he takes charge instead of staying still. Shuichi sucks at frozen lips and desperately tries to stay warm. He feels something like thick spit escape Ouma’s mouth. Then those lips hesitantly part, allowing Shuichi’s tongue to dip inside. There's really nothing much in there. Maybe something like a tongue, an odd wetness, but mostly just velvet soft walls. Almost like the insides of Shuichi’s cheeks.

As far as taste goes, Ouma actually tastes sweet enough that Shuichi is wholly pleased. The man pulls them closer together while tilting his head. Not at all a bad experience so far. Cold hands and arms reach around his lower waist- slightly hindered by how tightly Shuichi is grabbing surprisingly broad shoulders.

"Nnnn...nnngh!" Ouma's throat groans out distorted sounds, faint words hidden in the undertones.

Shuichi wonders what kind of expression the ghost has now. If his eyes display enough to show how good he feels. Perhaps Ouma doesn't get anything from how Shuichi is rubbing his tongue around. Maybe the sucking and licking is boring. The Detective huffs and starts nibbling at Ouma’s mouth.

Ouma parts from him not long after- sounds resonating inside of him and arms shaking. All Shuichi can do is shiver and stare at the spectral boy's lips. Slowly, his eyes confirm that the hint of pink is real. It sends a rush of gleeful lust down his spine. Purple and black look at him with lurking lust. For the first time, Ouma's nudity is fully sexual in all of the right ways. At least in the context of Shuichi’s libido noticing. 

He's lithe and rather small, yet with a certain manliness, wide doe eyes hiding a sharp intelligence. Wicked even. Shuichi has learned that well enough.

Something about it all is arousal inducing.

Gold eyes drift down to look at Ouma’s erection. Shuichi watches it twitch from need with interest. He pushes down his pajamas and boxers with a shiver, hearing some kind of verbally wooden clack from the ghost when he does so. The detective is certainly larger as far as size goes. One short lived relationship resulted in uneasy laughing, his girlfriend being very upfront about being far too ‘shallow’ for him to fit, and a lukewarm friendship after. He's at least five inches taller anyway. He's also unprepared to feel Ouma’s cock slide up against his own. Less because of the action and more because the erection is the temperature of an iceberg. 

Shuichi jerks back with hisses spitting from his lips. Electronic ringing sputters mockingly from his alarm clock. 

"Hey! Warn me before you do that, it's really cold and I'm sensitive!" Shuichi protests with a strangled gasp. He feels almost childish but can't help it. "I think I'm definitely not going to bottom..."

Ouma pouts for a moment before his eyes light up and near swarm with black, lips still faintly pink. The ghost smiles smugly and falls backwards onto the bed. His body makes more laughing motions. All Shuichi can do is stare with his jaw dropped as those legs go wide spread. He can see each inch of Ouma’s body, from head to toe, and there's really nothing bad to say of it. Perhaps the sudden reveal is for titillating or some kind of sly revenge. Shuichi gulps and eyes the way Ouma shifts into a pose, both legs lifted into the air and held to his chest.

Despite be so lithe, Ouma's thighs are soft and supple. Their translucent appearance only lends another way for Shuichi to notice it. His Earth bound spirit, his housemate- is legitimately attractive to the point that it's unfair. Shuichi just isn't going to be be capable of getting that professional outlook back.

Going from observing those lewdly posed legs, Shuichi glances at the cock standing up against alluring thighs. Further down to a plump and heavy ballsack. Ouma definitely wins hands down on that contest. Shuichi licks his lips and looks at his ghost's entrance. It's just as colorless at the rest of Ouma- but at the same time there's a slightly darker tint to the skin there. A small pucker that looks relaxed and soft to the touch. Damp like the rest of him.

"Do you think you'll need lube? Since you're not exactly... I mean that it would probably just go through you?" Shuichi mutters thoughtfully. He brings a hand to his mouth and wipes off some residual spit. "Not that we're starting with that right away."

The ghost just watches him curiously. Purple eyes look at him with not a hint of understanding. Shuichi smiles slightly, knowing full well how silly it must seem, wanting to prepare a ghost. It just seems far odder to skip foreplay. Skipping any foreplay before anal seems odd in general. Just kissing and coming to an understanding doesn't count. At least not for a person that isn't dead yet. Shuichi gets closer to Ouma and gently manipulates the ghost's lower half. He lifts the younger man's ass up into the air a bit and holds him like that.

Easier to reach, Shuichi thinks as the bed momentarily rattles.

Then he lowers his face to Ouma’s exposed crotch. His hands tighten around the boy's wiggling hips, fingers rubbing at sticky skin. Breathing hot air onto the cock before him causes an array of reactions. Twitching and fidgeting, and clicking groans that sound straight from a horror game. Shuichi can't help but feel excited by them. Perhaps he's grown too desensitized. 

Flicking out his tongue results in a less sweet and more metallic taste. It's still not a reason to stop. The man presses a kiss the the rigid flesh of Ouma’s cock. Slightly less freezing than the rest of him. Shuichi’s lips quirk into a smile as he travels down to the ghost's balls. 

Just the first lick alone causes a shriek that makes the windows shudder.

Humming thoughtfully, Shuichi starts lapping against the softness below him. He uses the flat of his tongue just how he remembers doing before. Slowly and gently despite uncertainty on sensitivity. Heat from Shuichi’s mouth puffs out fully visible. Each steady lick makes Ouma twist, gurgle, and even whine. The ministrations do their job though, if the repeating tense-untense of Ouma’s body is any indication. 

The Detective trails his tongue along the seam and delights at the noise it earns him. Like steam from a tea kettle. Shaking, the bed rattles while Shuichi runs his tongue back up to Ouma's dick.

Shuichi sucks at the head and is thankful that the precum he finds there tastes normal. Then he notices hints of pink and life that are showing up. He pulls away to admire the extremely faint coloration centered where his mouth was. It's as if the attention is staining Ouma with new life. Silly, but perhaps plausible. Sex is partly so that living creatures can reproduce... 

After a second the man goes back giving the ghost pleasure. 

This time, unfair though it is, Shuichi carefully takes one of Ouma’s balls into his mouth. He allows it to rest there while kneading the flesh of Ouma’s thigh. It certainly feels like the ghost is becoming more solid. Less likely a squishy balloon ready to pop, and more like a squishy person with substance. The Detective finds that the idea is almost arousing by itself.

Putting life into this ambiguous body made of God knows what- the concept is somehow pleasing. 

Each tiny element of it makes Shuichi feel more determined. Although he doesn't know much about the ghost, Shuichi doesn't hate what he's seen of Ouma as a person. 

It would have been nice to meet him while the boy was alive. 

Shuichi starts swirling his tongue and sucking at plump flesh with a goal in mind. Gently of course, especially when Ouma is starting to sound less like a collection of unrelated noises. There's still things like bricks being slapped though. Just lurking further under an actual human's voice. 

Ouma sounds adorable when he's being teased, Shuichi thinks. He releases the ghost and gazes smugly a flushed skin. Still pale and yet obviously healthy. At least in comparison to the truly dead pallor of before. Keen eyes skim across Ouma’s panting body, ears twitch as wet gasps reach them, and Shuichi cups the drool slicked balls he played with. Just a slight movement that has Ouma grunting with a whimper at the end.

"You're looking really desperate for the next part, Ouma-san!" the Detective says happily, smiling as he spots the look on Ouma’s face. It's certainly an expression befitting someone that hasn't had sex for three decades.

Shuichi freezes at the realization that Ouma is, as a whole, looking very much more alive.

His hair is limp against the bed, the plum elements that Shuichi noticed more vivid than ever before. As bright as his eyes that are near clear of writhing black- purple dyed tips and silky plum hair complementing them. His lips look reddened from kisses or biting. Indeed, all of Ouma is flushed to a lively state of temptation. He's barely even below room temperature.

Like a vision of loveliness, and obscenities, curled in on himself while his body remains stubbornly transparent. It's the expression that stabs straight into Shuichi's heart though.

Those eyes are blurry with truly wet tears. Not a hint of sticky ink. Definitely, this ghost has been lonely the whole time. Shuichi has zero doubts in his mind about it. That Ouma probably thought that no one would ever try to bring him closure, let alone hold him like this. For someone who died at the beginning of the rest of their life- Shuichi can hardly imagine. 

But Ouma doesn't have to wait anymore. Not for companionship.

Maybe the ghost is smiling so alluringly because he knows that.

One of Shuichi’s hands reaches down to carefully grope at the ghost's ass. Caressing and grabbing in soothing motions. The skin is still fairly sticky in places, but it's soft and smooth in ways it wasn't before. Shuichi grins at the anxious wiggling of hips. Ouma remains rather relaxed for all the implied impatience. Even so-

"I should find the lube..." Shuichi says, low and breathy. "Ouma-san hasn't had sex for a long time, if at all, so I'll definitely give him my best. Just give me a moment?"

A loud jumbled mess of consistent sounds escapes from Ouma’s mouth, determined and almost angry. The ghost grunts and groans as he falls limp. He eyes Shuichi with indignation as the lamp flickers with purpose. Both of Ouma’s hands reach over towards his opening. Shuichi gulps as he watches those fingers spread pink flesh open, or at least try. The little hole winks eagerly at him. It's now that the Detective comprehends the wanton pose he has Ouma in. 

Bent and folded in a way reminiscent of a cheap doujinshi character.

Shuichi’s eyes lock onto the sight of fingers presenting, snap to the lust making Ouma be so needy. Right there as it reflects in those eyes. The man wants to trust that his partner is judging correctly. 

Yet, the Detective finds himself sliding a single finger into Ouma’s ass. It welcomes him almost too eagerly. Shuichi finds that the ghost's insides aren't too different from his mouth. More like what they should be, arguably from this strange warming effect, but full of a slick if tacky substance. No wonder Ouma just wants the sex to start already. Three more fingers are slowly inserted into the ghost's body. Each one easily taken with zero trouble. 

The fact that Ouma’s ass is both ready for sex and still comfortably tight no matter what is... 

He can't help but gulp as those vividly colored eyes stare up with longing. Ouma’s lips slowly part before pressing shut again, an almost unsure look crossing over the young man's face. It's like the ghost is almost embarrassed about how this strange manifestation of his works. Shuichi certainly agrees that there's a definite obscene quality. Not that the Detective would ever say such a thing. The way that Ouma’s rim is clenching down on his fingers, how slippery Ouma is, is too much either way. 

Shuichi stares down at the stretched hole with fascination. He honestly wishes that he'd had the idea to lick there too. The ghost below him is huffing and squirming from just fingers. Even if it's a total of four- and Shuichi’s fingers aren't exactly tiny. Actually, it's completely understandable that Ouma is starting to look up with purely visual pleading. 

"Ouma-kun must be getting impatient, huh? I wonder what he'd do if I decided to keep preparing him... Even though he doesn't need it," the man finds himself saying. 

He laughs immediately afterwards, foreseeing Ouma’s irritation before it shows. Shuichi smiles nervously and wonders at how his thoughts escaped with no warning.

Looking down at Ouma’s body is starting to feel almost strange. As if it's been a long time coming, and maybe it actually has. Shuichi is far from the best at figuring out the whole flirting thing. It's fully possible that Ouma has been making advances for a while. 

Kneading into soft warmth with one hand and forming the other into a 'c' shape, thumb rubbing on a faintly wet taint, the Detective tries to find Ouma’s prostate. He carefully observes each fidget while his fingers massage the ghost's inner walls. But he doesn't find any bump or spongy spot. Ouma seems to be shivering from enjoyment though. Still, Shuichi is reaching the same limit that Ouma already has.

Removing his fingers and staring momentarily at the clear substance on them- Shuichi wonders if Ouma is actually a particularly cruel sex demon. Haunting someone and nudging them onto a wild goose chase seems like the kind of thing the younger man would do. Not that Shuichi can find it in himself to be upset right now. He wipes the substance onto his cock, trying to ignore flutterings of embarrassment, wondering what he can even say. Just announcing that he's going to start seems cliche. The Detective carefully lines himself up with Ouma’s entrance. 

Everything is thoroughly ready, and Ouma is trying to get closer too.

"I'll definitely make you-" Shuichi’s lips purse up as he pushes forward. A precarious sense of nostalgia wells up inside of him. 

Ouma’s mouth parts further as his eyes widen, stomach muscles contracting, and the ghost seems so alive that Shuichi let's gravity do it's work. He sinks in steadily as the boy's sphincter eagerly swallows up his cock. Gold eyes grow half lidded as tight warmth twitches. Slick sounds make his ears flush- but the way Ouma writhes is the most wanton thing of all. Wanting or needing doesn't matter. All Shuichi can think about his how much he wants to see better. Not just glimpses past admittedly alluring legs.

Unable to think and fully able to move, Shuichi pries Ouma's legs apart for the sake of seeing his face.

"H-hhaaa~? Ah, aaah," the ghost rasps, back arching and hands haphazardly covering his face, trembling lips twisting into a lustful smile. Shuichi groans as he finally bottoms out. 

A few drops of water and blood fall from him. Back onto their origin. Right there against a flushed chest, running down to Ouma's ribs. It makes Shuichi startle at the stark reminder that this so very animated person is exactly the entity that makes his throat feel clogged at night. Even so, the man just wipes the fluids away.

It's then that the Ultimate Detective goes to look at Ouma’s member once again. Checking to make sure everything is fine is just being decent. Especially when the spirit can't actually speak. 

Shuichi’s eyes freeze at the sight of dick just barely visible past skin. Remaining translucency, exposing the foreign objects inside of him rather than behind. Ouma makes a warble and then growls wetly. Likely confused as to why the person fucking him has stopped entirely. Then the boy coos so sweetly that Shuichi’s penis jerks around inside of him. Being able to see the suggestion of Ouma’s insides shouldn't be this hot. It's raunchy, uncouth, but the man can only bring his fingers to rub at skin.

Ouma’s body really is soft all over.

That's the first thought that he has, pale digits poking into paler flesh. Another round of confused noises gets paired with fond wall scratches. For a few moments, Ouma doesn't seem to understand what Shuichi is doing. Then the ghost stops making sounds entirely. Shuichi glances up to see a completely entranced expression. A little bit empty, totally focused, and utterly aroused. Ouma meets his eyes with an almost worried look- a little bit like fear. 

"Don't go thinking that I'll stop! Or that this is bad? You've... Never really been solid before. Honestly though, if I was going to have sex with you before then-" the Detective shuts up when one of his pillows wacks the back of his head.

"Unless you want to sto- Hey!"

Right, no stopping and probably no commenting on Ouma's usual appearance. Both make enough sense for Shuichi to not even want to question them. Being reminded of how you look like a urban legend is probably a huge turn off either way. Shuichi smiles and slowly pulls out. 

Not all the way of course. Ouma would probably get pouty if Shuichi teased him like that. He's being rather docile for an impatience filled poltergeist. The man sighs happily when only the head of his cock remains inside of the ghost. Ouma’s rim clenches around him curiously. A faint suggestion of shape and contour makes Shuichi's spine tingle. A glance up reveals that the younger man is gazing at the same place. 

Watching as his ass tries to beg for more.

"Hhhie?! H-aaah, nihh...ah. Ghuhhha-d," Ouma babbles endlessly. The sound of draining water lends a sense of urgency to his wordless ramblings. 

Taking the hint as much as possible is a bit hard. Shuichi still finds himself addicted to the feeling even without the ability to peak in and see each rapid thrust. It's one thing to have this slick warmth fluttering around him too. The Detective finds himself caught between watching Ouma's hands clutch at sheets and himself, or the ghost's constantly changing expressions, or the way that Shuichi’s penis is clearly visible. He gets to see all three while not want to look away from any of them. 

Gold and purple meet as Ouma’s hands pull at dark purple hair- as sweat drips down skin bright with life. Shuichi swoops down mid thrust to meet those lips again. Ouma opens his mouth even before he gets there. A faint sweetness remains, flavor nostalgic, and the man ends up pounding even faster. Squeaks and mewls get muffled by far more wanton noises. Wet sounds from Shuichi’s mindlessly thrusting hips filling his lover up with cock. Drool slapping against lips as Ouma sucks on Shuichi’s own. 

It's an absolute frenzy as both of them lose all common sense. The bed shakes under them, but Shuichi is unable to care. All he can do is scoop his lover up into his arms. Continually seeking further pleasure by moving faster and faster. The softness of Ouma’s body is just too seductive. Pulling away for air, Shuichi finds himself staring at the way Ouma can't even focus anymore. Hazy, unfocused, the ghost's purple eyes are so dark with desire that Shuichi groans. His dick is already throbbing from how much tighter Ouma is getting. 

Just one second passes before the velveteen flesh clamps down almost painfully.

Orgasm, clearly. Despite seemingly lacking a male g-spot too. But there's no mistaking the way Ouma is reacting. Nothing loud to be heard in favor of entirely human whimpers, frantic breathing, and the sight of Ouma's face contorting into an almost pained ecstasy. Shuichi grits his teeth and goes back to slamming his hips forward. It's even easier with Ouma bucking up into him. 

He faintly wonders why the ghost was do still before, but two shocking strong legs wrap around him like a vice.

All ability to think vanishes once Ouma’s voice and hot breath meets his ears. They're intertwined with one another's bodies, and the boy's hair has a soft cedarwood scent to it. But that's not even the important part. Shuichi couldn't care less, even about how sublimely Ouma is milking his cock while in the throes of cumming so violently. All because of one thing that steals his words away. 

"Sss-sh-ha! Saaiih hha, ihhie! Nnnaaah?! Uhn," the ghost moans as his hands scramble against the skin of Shuichi’s back. Tears and sobs leak out of him too. Yet, it's the suggestion of a name that makes the Detective's hips go fast- it's the possibility of hearing his name that has his thrusts become downright brutal. With only the burning need to hear it, Shuichi sinks his teeth into the pale neck below him.

Human screams and limbs tightly gripping. Flashes of delicious pain alongside soft fingers brushing his hair back while pink lips smirk, brown fabric, white and black; Shuichi responds to the arching of Kokichi's back by digging his teeth further in.

Frantic movement comes to just as sudden a halt as Ouma stills. Then the young man falls almost limp with a bundle of whispers, "Saihharhaaa.."

Over and over as blood blocks out every other sound. It's all that Shuichi can hear. His last name repeated endlessly while his head fills with pins and nails and fog. The man pulls away from Ouma with a sudden need to see. Firmly gripping at twitching hips, hard enough to make Ouma whimper, Shuichi always apologizes. Gold eyes lock onto a truly satisfaction filled leer paired with intimate warmth. 

Realizing that Ouma might like the roughness makes a spike of desperation pierce the Detective's heart. He glances down at where his dick is and goes back to chasing his own orgasm. All the tiny gasps full of half-understandable begging serve to egg him on. 

Each time Shuichi pounds into Ouma’s heat is right there. The man see exactly how deep his cock is. How he's spreading the boy apart with the girth of his dick. All the spasming and the pulsing and the obscene throbbing- partly obscured when Ouma rubs at the spot with a single pale digit. 

Something sharply musky-sweet and spicy fills the air like a tempting cologne. 

"Say it again, Ouma-san, God just say my name again!" he blurts out while changing position just enough for a small bulge to form as they fuck. "I want to hear you finally let everyone know who's fucking you!" 

The words have contexts that Shuichi can't comprehend. Still, they feel right.

"Ah..." the ghost looks up at him with adoration and a lazy contentment.

Lips made red from kissing, jaw near slack from much the same, Ouma weakly moans-

"Saihara-chan!"

Hearing that, watching Ouma's tummy get a slight bump with each thrust, is all too much. All of it is too much. Like Ouma is admitting something that Shuichi has needed to hear for a long time. It's making a strange mood come over him. Remnants of restraint can't hold him back anymore. Shuichi uses his grip on Ouma to thrust the boy like a doll, so eager to both give and receive, making their bodies collide almost painfully. It's possible that Shuichi will gain or leave bruises- but something tells him that Ouma will preen smugly. Just that mental image... Too much always too much. How did Shuichi ever handle or- forget? 

Whimpers leave the Detective's throat as he tries to fight a scream of his own. Emotions rush and flow through him, but nothing takes away from the sheer intensity of watching Ouma's eyes roll back. Chest heaving despite oxygen being unnecessary. 

Adorable. Ouma is always so fucking adorable even when he's sneering like he's superior. 

Thoughts that feel off dart through Shuichi mind right before he finally cums.

Intense. Like something getting ripped out of him. Complete and totally satisfaction washes over Shuichi’s body. His release bursts out of him in a way that makes blunt fingernails dig into pale skin. Semen steadily fills Ouma’s body as Shuichi’s hips stutter to a stop. It feels like time is stopping as the man pulls them closer together. That ass squeezes down on him purposefully, slickness and cum visible, making the glimpse inside distort.

Cum slowly disappears as Ouma’s body loses all transparency. As does the slightest hint of Shuichi’s softening penis. To see it happen, Ouma becoming fully solid and human-alike, is it's own kind of intoxicating.

There's not a single speck of black in those bliss filled eyes anymore. 

A fact that stands out wonderfully as Ouma's head lulls to the side. The boy is drenched in sweat and stray drops of blood from before. Shuichi rolls his hips forward as his orgasm ends. Pleasant chills travel through them both. All the man can care about is the smile spreading across Ouma’s face. How each breath is crisp like an autumn morning. Not sure what to say or do now, after this strange round of sex, Shuichi flops onto the bed next to the ghost. His ghost…

Being exhausted beyond belief is a good excuse for closing your eyes, Shuichi’s brain says. The damp chill climbs back in for a moment. Yet, the man feels Ouma slowly tug him back up to the pillows. Golden eyes watch the whole while. It's strange to think about how this dead boy feels so warm. 

"Sorry... I didn't mean for-"

Purple stares at him with a small smile. The Detective finds himself cowed by both it and internal confusion. He allows Ouma to touch at his jawline as they both crawl under the covers. Huddled and laying together like two drowned gutter rats. It feels familiar, nostalgic, and-

Far off giggles taunt Shuichi’s waning consciousness with words, doubtlessly smug, "Saihara-chan came back..."

But by then, the man is already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually related to an 'actual haunting' au I never wrote. Mostly because I wanted to finish Rotary first. Riplol. Let me tell you, I didn't plan some kind of plot like what is being implied here.


End file.
